


Post-Post-It

by LokianaWinchester



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Angst, Declarations Of Love, First Time, Fluff, Gaby being fabulous, Illya being a good friend, M/M, Napoleon being jealous, Smut, a tiny bit of - Freeform, sweet sweet love, they have sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 17:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14898863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokianaWinchester/pseuds/LokianaWinchester
Summary: As the title says this is set post"Post-It". For the anon request made to my tumblr: "Post-It part two? Gaby Teller comes into the picture and keeps on cockblocking Kuryakin from making his move on Solo (aka finally making love)."





	Post-Post-It

Illya had been sceptical about everything. He had wanted Napoleon, but a man that beautiful and precious would surely never want him. A man of Napoleon’s type, cheerful, humorous, what would he want with Illya? Granted, Napoleon was far from perfect himself, sometimes taking things too far, he was too reckless, bad at following orders, which frustrated Illya beyond belief. Luckily his fears had been without reason and Napoleon had turned out to like him. A lot.

When they kissed that first time, it took Illya a lot of self-control not to take things further, but he restrained himself when he remembered Napoleon’s bad shoulder. He would wait, keep things quiet and calm until Napoleon had fully recovered. They did not see each other for days after that, but when Illya got off work that Friday afternoon and rang Napoleon’s doorbell, he was greeted by 200 pounds of solid muscle flinging himself at Illya. He nearly lost balance, but managed to catch Napoleon who was clinging to him with one arm around his shoulders and the other hand gripping the front of his jacket.

“That eager, Cowboy?” he asked, jokingly. He was just as happy to see Napoleon again.

“Yeah.” It was barely more than a hoarse whisper and it did things to Illya. But he did not have time to analyse these things because then Napoleon was kissing him with such intense longing, that Illya had a hard time remembering what he had promised himself.

“Hey!” Illya jerked back.

“Mind moving this into the flat?” Napoleon’s 86-year-old neighbour was locking the door behind himself, about to leave. They were still in the hallway and Napoleon looked at him sheepishly. Illya sighed and took it upon himself to answer.

“Of course.”

Napoleon pulled him through the door and Illya only heard the old man snort with laughter before the door fell shut and Napoleon was pressing him against it. He immediately went back to devouring Illya’s mouth and it was clear he wanted more, but Illya would not give in.

“You put out on second date?”

Napoleon laughed out. His eyes sparkled with humour as he looked at Illya.

“I usually do on the first date, Peril.”

Illya had expected that, but it still surprised him that Napoleon gave up this information so easily.

“Well, I don’t,” he said sternly. Napoleon frowned at him.

“And you are sick. Have injury. Get well first.” Napoleon’s frown turned into a faux-shocked expression, even though Illya was sure some of what showed on his face was really how he felt.

“But Illya,” Napoleon whined. “That’ll be months!”

Illya rolled his eyes.

“I know, Cowboy. Don’t fuss.”

To his surprise, Napoleon really stopped.

U.N.C.L.E. found out, of course. And just like that, Illya was relieved because they would never work another mission together. Couples were generally not sent on those and neither were broken-up ex-couples and with good reason. This way Napoleon could never sacrifice himself for Illya, as he had implied. He knew, it had been a joke, but deep down Illya feared, that there was a kernel of truth in Napoleon’s words. Instead Illya got another partner; a very talented spy for joint missions. An ex-mechanic from Germany. Gaby Teller.

Gaby was a lot to get used to. She was not at all like other female spies. Illya knew his fair share of them but Gaby stood out among them. She was simply better. In her three years of work for U.N.C.L.E. she had only one failed mission, an impressive count, compared to Illya’s four and Napoleon’s four and a half, the half one being their joint mission, he had failed, but Illya saved.

Gaby was a machine. Her petite form and elegant movement suggested otherwise, but she was precise, she was ruthless when she needed to be. She challenged Illya, when these days, few people could compete with him. He had to admit they had chemistry, but Gaby never made a move on him. She was sure to keep her work life and private life clearly separated. When Illya told her about Napoleon, she took it in stride and they went on to become great friends. It might not seem like this to outsiders; they were always bickering, always at each other’s throats, but it was their way of friendship and it worked.

Napoleon got better. It was slow, as gunshot wound recovery tended to be, but he was doing great and his therapy sessions were over soon enough as well. While Napoleon was off, Illya continued to work and U.N.C.L.E. did not care about their status at all, because soon enough Illya was sent off on a mission with a no-phone policy, which meant no contact for them for over a week. Illya had always found this taxing before, when they were only communicating by post-its, more so when they started texting, but now that he knew Napoleon was back home and waiting for him, missing him just as much as Illya was, it became nearly unbearable.

This was where Gaby came in. She managed to take his mind off his problems and sorrows. She kept his mind busy so he could not worry. She was great.

They finished the mission admirably. And then they went back to England.

Napoleon was at the U.N.C.L.E. airfield. As soon as Illya stepped off the stairs down from their plane, Napoleon jogged towards him, accelerating his pace when Illya set his suitcase down next to himself and opened his arms, wrapping them around Napoleon tightly. The latter held on to him like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood. It was endearing and Illya knew exactly how Napoleon felt.

“I missed you,” Napoleon mumbled into the skin at Illya’s neck. The hot breath against the sensitive skin sent shivers down his spine.

“I missed you too, Cowboy.” Napoleon pulled back a bit, but only enough to take Illya’s face between his hands and kiss him senseless. Illya gasped into the kiss and as he returned it, his hands moved to Napoleon’s hips, pulling him closer.

“Hey,” came from behind them.

“Can you maybe at least let me off the plane?” Gaby piped up, but there was laughter in her voice.

“Shut up, chop-shop girl. You’re only mechanic. What do you know of romance?” Illya shot back, before Napoleon’s lips were back on his own.

“I know it can wait until I’m off the plane, Illya,” Gaby replied.

There was a thump on the ground next to them. Illya broke the kiss.

“You jumped over rail from stairs because I was busy?”

Gaby grinned, high heels dangling from her fingers.

“Yeah. Tired of waiting, I guess. Tired of watching you snog your boyfriend.” Illya huffed, an exasperated look on his face as Gaby strode away.

Napoleon took his hand.

“Well, she’s something,” he remarked. Illya nodded.

“She is.”

Napoleon was persistent and it became more difficult to resist him with every minute they spent together. Illya wanted him so bad, but he was just as thick-headed as Napoleon and he was not going to budge before the doctor cleared Napoleon for strenuous physical activity.

“Strenuous? You planning on going that hard?”

Against his will, Illya blushed. Of course Napoleon would say that.

“So what if?” he said under his breath.

“If you do, then all this waiting might almost be worth it,” Napoleon laughed. Illya rolled his eyes in response.

“Will be worth it, Cowboy. I promise.”

Of course Napoleon did not shut up about going to the doctor three days in advance. Of course Napoleon called him the minute he left the doctor’s office. Of course he made the crudest remarks on the phone that made Illya pray to god that Napoleon was someplace where nobody listened to him.

He was just about to pack up for the day and head for Napoleon’s place, when Gaby popped into his office, saying she needed his help.

He could not refuse her. The job undoubtedly came first. He knew this, Gaby did and so did Napoleon. Illya heard the disappointment in his voice when he called his boyfriend.

“I’ve waited so long, I’ll be able to wait some longer.” Illya frowned at how bad he felt got as simple a reason as not having sex with Napoleon that evening.

“Will you come by later anyway?” Napoleon sounded hopeful. Their time together was still limited and they both cherished every second spent together.

But it would be too late and Illya was going on a mission the next day, so he gave a short no as an answer.

Napoleon would survive.

And he did, but he was all the more clingy and desperate when Illya came back and finally Illya did not hold back anymore. They were at Illya’s apartment and although he was not holding back anymore, he was taking his time, which turned out to be a blessing and a curse simultaneously. The ringing of the doorbell had Illya prying himself away from Napoleon, willing down the erection, trying to look presentable at the door. He opened it a few inches and peered outside.

“Illya. Can I come in?” Gaby.

“I’m busy,” Illya replied.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I just…” she sniffled. Gaby was crying or had been until very recently.

Illya opened the door the rest of the way.

“We have company, Cowboy,” he called over his shoulder to give Napoleon the opportunity to fix himself.

“Come in.” Gaby followed the invitation. “What is it, Gaby?”

“I’m sorry if I interrupted anything,” she said. Illya huffed.

“I don’t wanna drink alone,” she continued, pulling a bottle of vodka from the inside pocket of her trench coat.

“Why drink?” Illya asked and held his hand out for the bottle. Instead, Gaby wiggled out of the coat and gave it to him. He raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“I broke up with my boyfriend.” At Illya’s confused look, she continued. “He cheated.” Illya saw new tears forming in her eyes and laid a hand on the small of her back to walk her to the living room and sat her down on a the sofa next to Napoleon while he himself sat down on her other side.

“I didn’t know you had boyfriend,” Illya said.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a spy?” Gaby shot back. “Two years.”

“I’m sorry,” Napoleon answered.

They watched a movie after that and got so drunk together, that Gaby passed out on the couch, and Napoleon and Illya decided she would stay there.

When Gaby came marching into the kitchen at 1PM the next day, huddled into the blanket Illya had tucked her into the night before, they knew it had been the right choice.

All of them were more or less hungover, so they spent the remainder of the day on the couch, watching rom coms until Gaby decided she needed a shower.

“I’ve bothered you long enough already. I just – thanks. I needed this.” Illya had been hesitant about inviting her in, but as she clung to him when he hugged her, a soft smile spread on his lips.

Illya went on a solo mission for nine days after that. He knew Napoleon was not especially thrilled about that but at least he was back within two weeks.

There was a distance to their time together. Illya had expected his boyfriend to be all over him, but Napoleon was not and after a few days he started to worry. He did not want to confront Napoleon about it. It felt childish and unnecessary but at the same time he needed an explanation, a reason for this behaviour.

Sure, he was gone a lot and Napoleon was still on leave, if only for a few more weeks, but that could not make Napoleon doubt the sincerity of Illya’s feelings for him. He always had such a high opinion of himself, how could that change now, Illya wondered.

They were at Napoleon’s apartment, but they were more or less sitting in silence.

“If you have problem, say so,” Illya spoke up.

“I don’t. I thought you had a problem.” Napoleon did not look at him, but rather inspected his fingernails closely.

“Why would I have problem, Cowboy?”

Still Napoleon did not look up. He also did not speak. He just seemed to be really invested in checking his fingernails for dirt. Of course there was none; Napoleon maintained impeccable hygiene.

Just when Illya opened his mouth to repeat his question, Napoleon started speaking.

“You want out?”

Illya frowned. “Out of what?”

Finally Napoleon looked at him. “Out of the relationship. You clearly have feelings for Gaby.”

Illya could not control his expression. He was sure his eyes were the size of dinner plates, his mouth was hanging open. This was about the last thing he had expected Napoleon to say.

“What?”

“You heard me, Illya.”

“No.” Illya had heard but he did not understand.

“Fuck, Kuryakin, don’t make this more difficult than it is. Just walk out that door and it’ll be over. I won’t – I won’t even be mad.”

“No. Napoleon listen. I don’t ‘have feelings’ for Gaby. She is friend. Good friend, yes, but why would I leave you?”

Illya took Napoleon’s hand and squeezed it. His other went up to cup Napoleon’s jaw.

“I could not leave you, Cowboy. If you want out, go, but I love you and I stay here.”

Napoleon’s answer was barely audible.

“What?”

Illya pulled him close in response, sealing his lips over Napoleon’s. After a second, Napoleon kissed him back.

“I thought you were spy,” Illya said, grinning, before he was silenced by Napoleon again. He was moving onto Illya’s lap without breaking the kiss and Illya moaned into the kiss, because Napoleon was thrusting his groin into his own. The friction was delicious. His hands moved to Napoleon’s butt squeezing, pulling him closer and then Napoleon stopped kissing him and started sucking and licking the skin at Illya’s neck. Another moan left his lips. He could feel Napoleon getting hard through his pants and decided now was the time to relocate. Illya gripped Napoleon’s thighs, lifting him up as he stood up and carried his boyfriend to the bedroom.

“Fuck, Peril.” Napoleon laughed breathlessly as Illya sat him down on the bed, panting. No two seconds later, Napoleon was back at devouring his mouth while he pulled Illya’s shirt from the waistband of his pants.

“Stop. Does not work like this,” Illya said while he pulled his sweater over his head and started unbuttoning his shirt, while working the socks off his feet.

Napoleon yanked the t-shirt off his body before toeing off his socks and pulling down the sweat pants he was wearing. Illya let his eyes roam over the glorious body of the man he loved. Scars were marking incidents that could have led to Illya sitting at home alone, with no Napoleon in his life.

Of course he noticed, Illya was distracted, and Napoleon’s hands joined his own in unfastening the buttons of his shirt, then undoing the one at his waist. Napoleon’s hands went to Illya’s ass pulling down the pants, for Illya to step out of them.

“Are you alright, babe?” The soft tone of his voice made Illya ache even more when he imagined a life without him.

“I’m just… happy I have you.” He pulled Napoleon close, looking deep into his eyes.

“Of course you have me, Illya. After all, I love you.” Illya was aware of how silly his answering gasp sounded, but he could not help it. He kissed Napoleon with all his joy and love and he felt the same being reciprocated. The two of them fell onto the bed, Illya between Napoleon’s legs, trying not to crush the other man underneath him, but Napoleon was strong, not fragile at all and Illya was glad to know it. When Napoleon reached a hand between them and palmed at Illya’s dick through his boxer briefs, he could not help but thrust back into the touch. Illya was getting hard so fast, he was dizzy with Napoleon’s touches. But he tried to retain a somewhat clear mind and slowly let his hands wander down the muscular torso until he reached the waistband of Napoleon’s underwear. He tugged once and Napoleon lifted his hips so Illya could push them down over his ass. Napoleon’s cock sprang fee and Illya’s breath hitched as his mouth watered. As if Napoleon was reading his mind, he reached into the nightstand and got two condoms and a bottle of lube out. He handed one to Illya, left the other lying next to them.

Illya put the condom on Napoleon before shuffling backwards and leaning down, one hand drawing gentle circles into the soft skin on the inside of Napoleon’s thigh.

His other hand wrapped around the base of Napoleon’s dick, before he closed his lips around the tip. He tasted the rubber of the condom, feeling the warmth of Napoleon’s arousal through the material.

Napoleon’s grown, when Illya took him in further, was the greatest prize Illya could receive. He stopped holding back and went down on Napoleon as enthusiastically as he was feeling. When Napoleon started thrusting his hips upwards, he pulled back, a hand firmly holding Napoleon down.

With his other hand he took the bottle of lube and when Napoleon kept still, eyes trained on him with an intense burning look, he squeezed some onto his fingers, spreading it generously.

When he circled his index finger around Napoleon’s hole, he heard a soft gasp from above.

“Fuck, Peril, yeah. Get your fingers in me.”

The tone in which Napoleon was speaking, sent thrills through Illya. He went back to licking along Napoleon’s dick, taking it in while his finger slowly pressed into Napoleon. Illya knew the exact moment when Napoleon stopped holding back, letting moans and cries fall from his lips freely.

Illya noticed Napoleon becoming loose around his finger quite quickly so he added a second finger. Napoleon’s hips began thrusting back onto his fingers again, so Illya let his lips pop off his dick and he looked down at the fingers he had buried deep within Napoleon. It was quite the sight and Illya was achingly hard in his underwear. Scissoring his fingers inside Napoleon until he was nice and loose around them again, Illya added a third one. Napoleon was panting, each breath voiced, each breath shallow, a small moan attached to it.

Then Illya seemed to twist his fingers just right and Napoleon cries out, voice raspy, eyes rolling back into his skull. He was clenching around Illya, but he kept on opening him up, barely increasing his rhythm.

“Oh god, Illya, I’m ready, please. I’ve waited so long, babe. I need you.” Illya knew Napoleon was not lying. He was feeling the exact same.

“Yes,” was the only answer he gave, before he pulled out his fingers, wiped them on his underwear before pulling them off and throwing them on the floor with the rest of his clothes. He took the second condom and put it on himself, spreading lube on his dick with a few strokes, before lining up with Napoleon’s hole.

He leaned forward, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss while he pushed his hips forward, sinking into Napoleon. The groan that rumbled through his boyfriend’s chest was indescribably hot and Illya’s hips snapped the rest of the way forward until he was firmly inside Napoleon, who broke the kiss, breathlessly.

“Move, goddammit.”

“Language,” Illya shot him a grin, to which Napoleon theatrically rolled his eyes.

Slowly Illya pulled back and pushed back in. Napoleon was stretched nicely around him, but the man had the audacity to squeeze around him and suddenly Illya felt the urgency of the situation as well. His thrusts came at a faster pace and then he hit that spot again and Napoleon’s whole body tensed up, before another deep moan echoed through the room.

“Like this?” Illya asked. Napoleon laughed out before another moan fell from his lips. He was a thing of beauty. Illya wished he could see this and nothing else for the rest of his life.

Napoleon’s chest was heaving with every breath, his lips were red, swollen from the kisses, parted to reveal his teeth shimmering through. His cheeks held a rosy colour, his eyes were only half-open, the blue almost fully taken over by the black of his pupils as he looked at Illya with the most adoring look. The tousled, wavy hair framing his face, completed the perfection Illya was sure he could call his own now, as Napoleon came apart beneath him.

He felt himself getting closer to orgasm, thrusts becoming more and more erratic. The Napoleon clenched around him hard, coming into the condom, untouched, his hands buried in Illya’s hair, pulling him down into a messy kiss as Illya was pushed over the edge as well.

When he was halfway coherent again he thought to himself that he should feel bad for collapsing on Napoleon, but his boyfriend did not seem to mind, combing his fingers through Illya’s hair softly. Illya had to will himself to move, motivated only by the prospect of holding Napoleon close under the covers, enjoying the intimacy. But for now, he pulled out, got the condoms off both himself and Napoleon and discarded them before getting a washcloth from the bathroom and wiping up their mess.

As he pulled the covers over them and Napoleon close to him, Illya was happy. Truly happy. He planted a soft kiss onto Napoleon’s shoulder.

“I love you, Cowboy.” Illya felt Napoleon’s breathing change and heard the words being whispered back at him.

“I love you too, Peril.”

A smile on his lips, Illya drifted off.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I hope you liked it. Feel free to leave kudos/comments :)


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